


Cain and Abel

by Splatx



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anthropomorphic, Cam work, Camsite, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Furry, Glorified Sex Work, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Knotting, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Work, Voyeurism, anthros, taking requests
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23626243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splatx/pseuds/Splatx
Summary: You and Arthur doing cam sessions was probably the most ridiculous thing that had ever come out of her mouth. She’d been your best friend for years, and had teased you about your ‘crush’ on him for just as long, even though you’d grown up with him and should never have felt such a way, and perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised. But Arthur had choked on his drink, and you’d made a sound as though you were more feline than canine, hocking up a hairball.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader
Kudos: 33





	Cain and Abel

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: This is a glorified take on sex work and cam work!

Arthur had lost his job.

It wasn’t his fault. His job was seasonal, and ever since Dutch and Hosea had sold their ranch so they could enjoy their older years, he’d had to take on a new contract every year. Find a new ranch to work for for the season, work with the non-sentient horses and cattle and dogs, helping with herding and weaning and branding until it was time to take them to market, making sure they were all healthy as he helped get them into the truck so they could be moved to the feed lots where they’d be fattened up for slaughter.

It was hard work, and dirty work, but you’d both been doing it since you were pups. When Dutch and Hosea had fostered, then adopted you both, Arthur when he was thirteen and you a few years later at nine, you’d both been put to work helping around the ranch, mucking stalls and then, once you were comfortable enough on horseback, working the moo-ers, the non-sentient cattle that were raised and bred to feed the sentient carnivores, their milk feeding sentient carnivores and omnivores and herbivores all. But while Arthur had sought out more ranch work after they’d sold theirs, you’d tried it then sought out more regular work; you missed it, but contract work such as that was too unreliable. While it paid well, it only paid at the end of the contract, and you preferred a steady paycheck.

But Arthur’s contract had fallen through the day before he was due to start, and with the season started, he hadn’t time to find a new contract. No one was looking for workers, and so he was out of work for the season, leaving the two of you relying on your, admittedly small, paycheck. It was enough to cover things, but you’d be scraping by.

You wouldn’t have more than five dollars to your names after paying for bills and groceries, nothing in case of an emergency or a rainy day, and of course you both worried. Within two months, your savings were depleted, his junker truck breaking down and having to be repaired so you could go into town for groceries, and what little you had left over from your paycheck was not nearly enough to replace it.

  
  


It was Abigail who suggested it.

You’d been whining to her (quite literally, there was a pathetic whine lacing your words that had Arthur huffing a laugh) during your movie night, and she’d said it quite bluntly. While she didn’t sell her body anymore, she’d been a very prolific cam-girl in her day, and still did it on occasion when she wanted some spare pocket money (you snorted, _pocket money_ your ass, what she earned in one session could pay for your two’s rent for months!)

You and Arthur doing cam sessions was probably the most ridiculous thing that had ever come out of her mouth. She’d been your best friend for years, and had teased you about your ‘crush’ on him for just as long, even though you’d grown up with him and should _never_ have felt such a way, and perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised. But Arthur had choked on his drink, and you’d made a sound as though you were more feline than canine, hocking up a hairball.

She’d had a point, even suggesting that you slip off your suppressants and just do it for your Heats. With Arthur loosened up, aroused and driven by the pheromones in the air, and you out of your mind with lust and instinct, neither of your inhibitions stopping you, it wouldn’t be half so awkward. Friends helped each other with Heats all the time, after all!

Still, even if you went off suppressants, it would take a while to hit your Heat, and you needed money before that. So, though it was a damned awkward conversation, you and Arthur talked, and came to an agreement. You could both tap out if it got to be too much, of course, but it was worth a try. Just turn the camera on, and see what happened.

  
  


Abigail had grinned like the cat who got the cream as she handed over her gear, insisting that you’d earn a lot more money with her camera and other supplies, her white tipped tail lashing.

The vixen had also been the one to come up with your names: ‘Cain’ and ‘Able’. Though there wasn’t much you could do to hide your faces, there were a million (well, not really a _million_ ) arctic and timber wolves in the world, and people wouldn’t really be focusing on your faces, hopefully. So you’d go by nicknames to retain some sort of anonymity.

  
  


The day you planned to do your first recording was awkward, the air between you tense. Though excitement simmered somewhere low in your stomach—you’d liked him since you were a pup, when you’d presented at thirteen and started taking an interest in Alphas, it had been the then seventeen year old Arthur that had caught your eye. But he’d never shown you the time of day, at least romantically, always viewed you as a dear friend and nothing else. While you’d shoved suppressants down your throat, taking Betas and only ever one Alpha when you had to go off of them for your health every year once you’d turned eighteen, he’d sniffed after Betas, first that Eliza woman, then that bitch of a cat Mary.

You’d worked together to strip down your bedroom, removing anything identifying—posters and pictures from your walls, your dresser, your furniture. Swapped out your rather identifiable bedspread for a plain one, white checkered grey, easy to clean—neither of you were sure how far things would get today, so it was best to be safe. The air had gotten particularly thick as you made the bed, the scent of _arousal-anxiety-discomfort_ strong on the air, and Arthur had cleared his throat before ducking out, the both of you wanting to shower so you’d be clean for the show.

  
  


Your laptop sits on your desk, already open to the website, to your page, and the thought that the two of you have a page on a _cam site_ sends a shudder that isn’t altogether unpleasant down your spine as you twitch your ear, listening to the water run. You’re really doing this, you realize, and have to sit down on the bed. The website isn’t streaming, but you can see yourself on the screen, the camera you’d painstakingly set up to make sure it caught both the bed and the floor you’d cleared in front of it capturing you easily. It’s a fancy camera, and you’re sure it cost more than you made in a year, easily as much as Arthur made for the season. There’s a remote on the nightstand, and another tucked in the bed frame, easily within reach no matter where you are, so you can adjust it, to keep you in focus whether you move from the floor to the bed or even to the wall.

A warmth settles in your groin, and you shudder, rubbing your thighs together.

_Arthur, muscles rippling beneath his fur, pinning you to the wall, snarling as he thrust, splitting you apart_

The water stops, and you jolt to your feet, clearing your throat, waiting to hear the door open and close, then the door to Arthur’s room do the same, before bolting to the bathroom to shower. It takes forever to wash fur, especially fur as bright and plush as yours. You get compliments all the time, as well as rather _unwelcome_ compliments, but as Abigail put it you would look _real_ nice against Arthur’s darker fur.

  
  


You and Arthur sit awkwardly on the edge of the bed, pointedly not looking at each other. You’re both undressed, and the thought that you could look to your side and see that tuft of fur between his legs that hides his cock would have a heat burning between your legs if you weren’t so nervous.

As it were, you stare at your hands, clenched together in your lap, and try to control your breathing. You can smell Arthur, but can’t _smell_ him, he smells like forest and woodsmoke, like that 2-in-1 shampoo you’d seen in the shower. The fact that you can’t smell _him_ , how he’s feeling, sets you on edge, although you know he can’t smell you, either. You’d scrubbed your fur until you looked more rat than wolf, smelled of lavender and lilies and roses. Spent even more time brushing it, until you ‘looked like a fuckin’ marshmallow’ as Arthur had put it, though you had said you looked like a _burnt_ marshmallow, with a small black saddle on your back that had driven you insane your whole life.

You look at the laptop, see it’s only a minute until you’re supposed to start streaming, although already you can see a small handful of viewers. Abigail had streamed a few days past, and given a shout out to the pair of you towards the end, the domme commanding her viewers to ‘give her best friends some love’ and, it seemed, some of them were obeying.

Bless her.

  
  


The laptop ticks over to the hour, and Arthur leans over to press stream on the laptop, pausing to look at you. “You sure about this?” he asks, ticking an ear, “we don’t have to if you’re not sure, we can always wait.”

You clear your throat, nod, grin. “‘m sure,” although you’re sure he must be able to see your heart threatening to burst from your chest. So he nods, licking his lips in a way that is _definitely_ not erotic, no sir, and presses the button, tilting back to rest his hands on his knees.

A red light blinks on the camera, and if that weren’t obvious enough a handful of chimes from the laptop makes it clear that you’re streaming. You gulp, dig your claws into your knee, and force on a grin as Arthur speaks up, purposefully thickening his drawl, and something about it sends a zap into your groin, leaving you shifting, uncrossing your legs to rest one paw on the ground, crossing the other over your knee, “Hello y’all, I’m Cain,” he pats his own chest, the fur there just barely too dark to be white, tan but streaked through with a ‘T’, the top bar brown, the middle black, “and this is Abel,” you lick your lips nervously, tongue swiping across your dry nose. “You probably know that, already, considering y’all came from our friend Abigail, y’all good for her?”

_Christ_ , but he’s good at this!

There’s a chime, then two. There’s not a lot of people but, hopefully, more will join. “You better be,” his voice dips into a growl that has you shivering, closing your eyes for a moment as heat pools in your groin.

You look at the laptop, at the question as there’s another chime, “N-no, we’re just roommates.” _Chime_. “We’ve… never done anything before, no, this’ll be the first time.” and that brings a few more chimes, a handful of tips that has you looking at Arthur, eyebrows rising.

Damn, you hadn’t expected anything until you’d gotten down and started.

Horny people, man.

Arthur looks back at a _chime_ , “Naw, not sure yet. Just gonna go with what feels right this time ‘round.” Another _chime_ , and he flicks his ears back, looks irritated, “I said _no_ , not for nothin’.” A _chime_ , quickly followed by another, and you look this time, eyebrows rising at the amount offered, and it’s tempting, but still anxiety rolls in your chest.

A growl rumbles in his chest, then a snort at another _chime_ , you look and grin, “Thanks…” and then you see the person’s username, don’t quite know how to pronounce it, but hope he or she becomes a regular considering they told the other to stop bothering the two of you. “but we’re fine. Friend, keep badgerin’ us and you’re gonna get kicked.”

And bless Abigail for giving you a run down of the different mechanics of the site.

  
  


The laptop goes silent, thankfully, and then you’re left to look at Arthur, trying to figure out where to start. If it was dark, you muse, it’d be easier, maybe with some alcohol in your stomachs to loosen your inhibitions. But there’d been the fear of slipping up and using the wrong names, even after spending nearly a week calling each other ‘Cain’ and ‘Abel’, and if you turned the lights out, considering you didn’t have any dimmers, they wouldn’t be able to see you well.

You look each other in the eyes, brown to sea-glass green, hear a _chime_ and then a slightly different _chime_ , one you recognize to be the offer of a tip, look over and see Use her mouth and that you can do, look over at Arthur and he shrugs, ‘Whatever you want to do’ he mouths, so you nod, take a deep breath as you swing off of the bed, crouching down on the ground as he spreads his legs so you can balance between them, his muscles twitching where you rest your hands on his thighs. His fur is surprisingly soft, although much coarser than yours, and for a moment you allow yourself to run your thumbs through it, distracting yourself as you try to gather the courage to start.

Looking up, your throat clicks on a gulp, the pointed head of his cock pointing out of his sheath. It sticks out, red against the long tanned fur of his groin, but not enough to take into your mouth, at least without getting a mouthful of fur with it. So you lean in, pressing your nose to the side of his sheath, reveling in the way he sucks in a breath, a handful of _chimes_ echoing from the laptop, and nuzzle against it, inhaling and enjoying the scent of musky _wolf_ , tilting your head enough to rub your muzzle and cheek along his sheath, leaving your scent on it, claiming it with the scent glands on your face. He groans, a sound that reverberates in your bones, and something _chimes_ on the laptop.

When you go to rub against it this time, enjoying the softness of his fur against yours, there’s a distinct warmth, a distinct wetness, and his musk is joined by _saltiness_ and _arousal_. Your mouth waters, and you pull back to lick your lips, eyes darting up to meet his. “Alright Abel?” he groans, and you nod, looking back down to take in his cock, a few inches peeking out now, flushed red and glistening with pre-cum. You lick your lips again, wondering how he’ll taste on your tongue, leaning forward to nuzzle it instead of his sheath, and he pants, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

Finally, you flick your tongue out, give the tip a kitten-lick to taste him, tilt your head and take a moment to peek at the camera, make sure they can see you, twitching your ears—the side of your face is obvious on the screen, and you want to duck and hide, so you lower your head a bit, trying to hide it between his legs as you hum, savoring the salty taste. There’s a _chime_ , and he reaches down, spreading his legs more as he grabs at your scruff, pulling you back.

“They wanna see ya, Abel.” he scratches at your ruff in apology, before gasping as you, clenching your thighs together, the sharp yank on your fur sending slick trickling down your thighs, take his cock into your mouth. His head snaps back, a growl tearing out from between his teeth, and you shudder, sure he can smell your arousal. You dip your head, taking in as much of him as you can, teasing the edge of his sheath in hopes of coaxing the rest of him out, letting your head rest there for a moment, his stomach twitching at the coldness of your nose, enjoying the mustiness, before drawing your head back. His hand comes down to grab at you, but he pauses, not wanting to test any boundaries, the pair of you both still fumbling and testing, finally loosely patting at the fur on the top of your head, and it’s so adorable you could laugh, if you didn’t currently have his cock down your throat.

When you go down this time, your eyes widen in alarm, gagging as his head goes down your throat, finding him swelling in your mouth. He’s wide, he’s _huge_ , far longer and far thicker than you’d expected, and you can only barely get the soft flesh where his knot will bulge inside your mouth. You draw back, coughing, and he pulls back as though he’s been burned, leaning down and asking, whispering in your ear, “You want to stop?” even as his massive cock bounces on his stomach, spurts pre-cum on his black and brown stomach.

“M’ fine Arthur,” you whisper, quietly enough the camera can’t pick it up, “just… wasn’t expecting that.” But _Christ_ , he’s huge, and you need him inside you an hour ago. Your groin throbs, and you feel painfully empty, sure the pristine white fur between your legs is graying with wetness. But right now is about him, they want to see your mouth on him, and that viewer had offered a decent amount to see it, and you’d heard the _chime_ that meant he’d sent the money.

He leans back, eyes burning holes in you as you lap at his cock, licking at it like a Popsicle, relaxing your throat as you enjoy his taste, feel it jerk against your tongue, some primal part of you enjoy that _you_ are the one making him make those sounds, that _you_ are the one giving him this pleasure. Finally, you think you’re ready to take him down, and take him in hand, bringing him to your muzzle, mindful of your teeth as you slide him along your tongue, slowly, slowly, into your throat, humming and hearing him _groan_ , his claws scratching at the bed sheets, not wanting to risk pulling your fur out.

You flick your tongue out, press it against the soft flesh where his knot will swell, then draw your head back, letting just the pointed tip rest in your mouth, before dipping down again, taking him all in. It’s still a bit of a struggle, you still gag around him, but as you do it, over and over, hear him groan in your ears, you find it easier and easier.

And then a _chime_ , and he gasps “Stop,” a moment later, and you freeze as though you’d been shot. It’s not your safeword (“Red”) or even a check-in color (“Yellow”), but he’d still said stop so you still, his cock half out of your mouth, the thickest part of it resting on your tongue as you look up at him.

He groans, looks away and then up as though in prayer, “One of ‘em, few of ‘em actually, wants to see me take your mouth. Hard.” You’re sure they used more vulgar language, but he’d always watched his language around you, though you’d overheard him use much fouler around others. Protecting your ‘innocent’ ears, you supposed.

Innocent. Look at you now, squatting before him, sitting back on your heels, warming his cock in your mouth.

You lean back, letting his cock drop from your mouth, bobbing in the air, a line of saliva connecting the pointed head to your mouth. Licking your lips (he almost whines) you nod, “I’m alright with that, Cain.”

He adjusts himself, sitting forward on the edge of the bed to brace his paws on the ground, and you move to sit closer, your hands resting on his thighs. You remember the silent safeword—three squeezes on his leg, since you can’t exactly call “red” with him in your mouth—and again thank Abigail for sitting you both down for one of the most uncomfortable talks of your life.

  
  


Arthur reaches down, wrapping those massive, tan-furred hands of his around your head, getting a good grip and looking down at you to make sure you’re comfortable, you nod, and lines his cock up with your mouth. You drop your jaw, leaning forward to take it in, mindful of those sharp teeth of yours, and then his hands tighten their grip and he’s bucking your hips, jostling you, and all you can do is tighten your grip on his thighs and enjoy the ride.

He growls loudly, each thrust stuttering the sound, and heat _burns_ between your legs, but he’s jostling you so much all you can do is clench your thighs together, try and provide yourself some pressure, some friction, but it’s _not enough_ and you could sob, but the force of his cock hitting the back of your throat, of his stomach slamming into your sensitive nose, is already forcing tears out of your eyes, and when he sees them his eyes go wide with alarm, grip going from confining to cradling, stroking claws through your fur. “You alright, Abel? Want to stop?”

You tap on his leg, _one-pause-one_ , you’re okay, and then around his cock, “Ah’m o’ay,” and he shudders at the feeling, taking a gentler grip, starting his thrusts slow, rumbling as he picks them up again until he’s thrusting as hard as he can, tilting his head back and baring his teeth, cock throbbing in your mouth, and you swallow, over and over, and he starts to say your name before correcting himself, choking out “ _Abel!”_

He pulls out, just enough, that he doesn’t knot your mouth, that you’re not stuck there awkwardly together, only able to hold a one-sided conversation, spilling down your throat. You gulp it down, his taste salty but not altogether unpleasant, but it’s a lot and you lean back, sitting back on your heels and licking your lips, finding some of it in the fur around your mouth as his cock _‘plop’_ s out, reaching up to wipe your muzzle. Finally, finally, you let go of his thighs, dropping your head and resting your forehead on his thigh as you drop your hand to the juncture between your legs, rubbing frantically fit to start a fire, though it didn’t take you long to cum, already close to the edge, a broken whine tearing from your threat, barely able to make out Arthur’s _“Jesus,”_ above you.

  
  


You went limp, barely able to manage a groan as he carefully scooped you up to rest you on the bed, saying… something to the viewers, and then the camera turned off. But whatever it was was a problem for later you, so you crashed, falling asleep. You’d regret it later, your fur sticky with cum and slick, but you’d been running on adrenaline and lust all day and the crash was ridiculous.

From what you’d seen, though, you’d made a decent pay for about an hours’ work.

**Author's Note:**

> Taking requests for what they'll be doing in later chapters!
> 
> Arthur looks like [ this and you look like ](https://chicago.cbslocal.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/15116062/2015/02/158275387.jpg)[ this as a reference.](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/678410581710995456/699133241906692186/images.png)


End file.
